It all started innocently enough

It was all fairly innocent to begin with. Gerry, who misses us terribly and wants to feel like he’s still part of our family even though he now lives a couple of hundred miles away, sent us a copy of this article about a dumb-ass couple who named their son Drew Peacock (say it out loud and quickly a couple of times – you’ll get it).

This is the e-versation that followed…

Gerry: Ideas for Mr Murnane Jr... (Drew Peacock article)
Sinéad: yeah, I don't think so...
Gerry: Drew Peacock Murnane? I think it has a certain ring to it. Come on, its almost like calling the kid Jim
Conor: Hahaahaha.
Sinéad: yeah, still no...
Conor: Dirk, Al, Joe, Konrad, Rico, Tyler, Pancrazio (I really like this), Pious, Agbatha, Duff, Abbadon, Dagobert, Ahitophel, Tatnai, Ur, Krisna, Pancho, Dallas, Parker, Yan, Bob, Dagget, Constantine
Gerry: I really don't like to question this, but are you sure you should have kids? The list of names seems a bit cruel. The kid;s gonna get his ass kicked each and every day. I think Sue is probably a better option. And how do you pronounce Pancrazio?
Sinéad: Please leave my unborn child alone, you mean bastards. Joe is off the list, by the way
Gerry: How about Michael Badly Murnane. Then all the girls will be after them... Think about it a while...
Sinéad: Ok, I give up. I don't mind admitting when I'm defeated - I don't get it...

(I’ve lost the next bit of the conversation – the strands split a little here. The upshot was that all the girls want Mickey Badly… Conor brings us back with a bit of Blankety Blank (an eighties game show))

Conor: Clint after Clint Cassidy. After all, he was probably the product of some____
Sinéad: The answer had better not be "some cow from Montana"
Conor: 150 blanks. Fooling around during Doc
Sinéad: y'know, we could always go a bit Posh'n'Becks with this and name him Blanchardstown, or Sofa
Gerry: Not The Sofa™ that every time you left Jim there he sat there naked with the cat on his lap, lad in one hand and jay in the other? And as for what he did there with the mars bars… The poor kid.
Sinéad: Could be worse, Gerry - we might want to call the child "Gerry's Pillow (Both Sides) Murnane"
Gerry: Krusty Murnane?
Conor: Was away from my desk doing some work. My, the conversation has progressed. Sin, let’s have a dinner party, drink some of that vino. How does the first weekend in December sound?
Sinéad: Sounds wonderful - would sound even more wonderful if *I* could drink some of that vino too...

(I’m missing the next bit, where the possibility of getting Jim and his missus out of Cork and up to Dublin for a weekend this side of Christmas is discussed)

Gerry: You should do, Jim has been talking of heading to Dublin. I'm trying to change Barcelona to that week tho.
Conor: Sin, you can drink some vino. Two glasses only. No more. No sirree. Gerry, does that mean you'll be entertaining Mrs.Conor next weekend? Could reschedule dinner to second week in December? Or this weekend coming?
Gerry: I’m hoping to entertain Mrs Conor next weekend. If by “entertain”, you mean let her sit there and watch me smoke grass all weekend. The thing with Barcelona is it’s a Saturday to Saturday job, so its most of 2 weekends gone. I’ll let you know once I have dates for it. Is Mr Conor coming down to help me entertain Mrs Conor? Or should I be prepared to show her what a Real Man™ is like? (Only happy to do so, got shit loads of ironing to give her)

So, you may wonder why on earth I thought you’d be interested in reading a conversation I had yesterday. I was really just looking for your sympathy votes. D’ya see what I have to put up with from my friends? Supportive, my arse!